If She Ever Leaves Me (It Won't Be for You)
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: There was always one thing Grace could count on whenever she met Karen for a drink: there would always be someone who was confident he could worm his way into the socialite's heart. It used to bother her, thinking about what would happen if one of them actually succeeded...until she learned that she was the one who held Karen's heart so that none of them could.


NOTE: Lyrics from "If She Ever Leaves Me" by The Highwomen are included in bold.

* * *

_**"I see you watch her from across the room,**_  
_**Dancing her home in your mind**_  
_**It takes more than whiskey to make that flower bloom**_  
_**By the third drink, you'll find out she's mine"**_

She hated to admit that she loved this part.

It was part of the reason why she was fashionably late (although Karen would laugh and question the "fashionable" part. But it wasn't like she could slum it in a place like this, she might as well make an effort). So she could see it all play out in front of her, the same way every time.

She took her seat at the bar, the one she always took when she wanted to hang back for a few minutes and watch the scene. She angled herself just outside of Smitty's sightline so he wouldn't give her away, but she still had a good view of her girl at the bar. Karen slid her empty martini glass out of her way and downed the whiskey that Grace knew she had originally ordered for her since she'd said she needed something stiff tonight. But as far as Karen knew, the redhead wasn't here yet and she could always order more whiskey later.

The bar was full of lonely Wall Street types, reeking of desperation and cologne. Grace looked around the crowded room, trying to find the inevitable man across the room who mistakenly thought that whiskey was his ticket in. And when she locked in on two potential candidates, she snorted. It was the same every time, but she never tired of it. They were all so _predictable._ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman next to her raise her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Men," Grace scoffed, leaning in so the woman could hear and grinning as she already nodded in understanding. "You see that woman across the bar? Who just threw back that whiskey? You just know some loser here is about to hit on her, the 'lonely' brunette who's about to ask for a refill. See, you've got the guy over there in the corner, but this one at the other end of the bar is closer, so you'd think he has the advantage. But my money's on corner guy."

The woman's eyes followed Grace's discreet (for her, anyway) finger pointing across the room, and they watched as the man stood up and made his way towards the bar, abandoning the untouched Old Fashioned on his table. Of course he was one of those, the ones who abandon their exorbitantly priced drink so they can make it seem like they walked up to the bar for another round and just now happened to notice how stunning Karen was. It was such a tired move, she couldn't help but laugh as she looked on.

As he approached Karen, the woman turned to Grace in astonishment. "How did you know?" she asked, lifting her glass to Grace in silent salute.

"He's the type," Grace answered smugly.

It was a routine she never expected to find herself in, but she welcomed it just the same. Finding the sorry man across the room who actually thought he had a shot. Realizing he was trying to craft the perfect opener by the concentrated, determined look on his face. Seeing him work up the courage to walk over to the bar, expecting him to get one close look at her and immediately trip over his come-on (she honestly wouldn't blame him; how many times has _she _looked into those hazel eyes and felt completely disarmed?). Taking in the way Karen looked at him like she was seriously considering whatever clumsy proposition she was being given. Knowing that Karen's poker face has always been impenetrable.

Knowing that Karen will still choose her over him without thinking twice.

She knew the type of guy who would rise to the occasion, and she had to hand it to him; out of all the men who have tried their luck at breaking through the walls Karen surrounded herself with, this type actually seemed to be her girl's type, too. But not her marrying type, where she's initially intrigued by the guy's bank account and ends up finding something else to love about him, something deep down inside of him that Grace was never quite able to place; the redhead never understood why she stuck with Stan for so long, or what made Lyle so appealing to her, aside from the obvious opportunity to get revenge on Lorraine. There had been so many moments over their twenty-year friendship where she had seen the way those men dimmed the shine in Karen's eyes, so many moments when Karen had tried to hide it. But when you spend as much time with someone as Grace did with her, you eventually learn all of their tells, even the ones they didn't know they had. It had crushed her every time she saw that light fade, knowing Karen was suffering, knowing Karen was too proud to let anyone help her. It made her hate anyone who crossed her assistant's path that even remotely resembled her marrying type.

But this guy didn't fall into Karen's marrying type; no, he was Karen's fling type, someone who could have probably helped her bounce back from the sting of her divorce (that is, if she was still stinging from her divorce, and-if those nights she spent in Grace's arms were anything to go by-she wasn't). Still rich of course, but tall and clean-cut and very obviously handsome. Dark hair to match hers. Walking around with an air of mystery about him that Karen could relate to, considering her own mysteries she carried with her day in and day out. It had to be why she kept going back to Malcolm for so long, Grace figured; what else could explain a years-long affair with a man who lied about everything from the get-go, who couldn't tell her why his work was taking him away and was almost always a million miles from Manhattan? This guy making his way to the bar looked like he could do the same damage Malcolm did. And maybe if he had made his move a few months ago, he _would _have done the same damage Malcolm did. But luckily, he's making his move now. Luckily, Karen already trusted her careful heart to someone else. Someone who Karen could respect.

Someone who didn't waste their liquor.

She nudged her new friend and pointed again towards the man's corner table. "What a snake. Watch, he's going to order a drink he doesn't need just so he has an excuse to get close to her." And like clockwork, they saw his hand go up to signal for Smitty. "And then he's gonna pretend like he only now realized she needs a refill, but he'll end up ordering the wrong drink for her." She let out a sigh. "It's so typical, isn't it?"

They shook their heads in unison as the guy motioned towards the empty whiskey glass in front of Karen. Grace had to roll her eyes as he spoke to her girlfriend.

"God, you just know he's flaunting his money around right now. Does every guy here do that, or is it just the sleazier ones?" she asked the woman, not expecting a response. But then she saw the hint of disgust in Karen's poker face-the hint that she knew only she could see-as the dark haired woman prepared her reply and couldn't help herself; she nudged the woman to make sure she was paying attention, her voice swelling with pride. "Would you look at that face?" she said gleefully. "She's not having any of it. But it wasn't like she ever could resist watching a man make a fool out of himself. That's my girl." Grace tore her gaze away from Karen and shifted her focus to the woman next to her, hoping that she wasn't the only one taking so much joy in all of this. The woman couldn't hide her surprise at the revelation Grace wasn't merely an objective observer, but she took it in stride, looking back at the tableau across the bar.

Grace looked back too, wondering if the woman was confused by her obvious enjoyment now that she knew Karen was her girl. But could anyone really blame her for being entertained by it all? The men who hung around this place were so predictable, borderline pathetic, and expected you not to notice that they were. It wasn't her fault that their delusion was funny. She couldn't help but feel like this was justice somehow, like every one of them had it coming for assuming that it would be easy.

And she couldn't help but feel vindicated whenever someone who was so obviously Karen's type on the surface went down in flames.

Grace didn't really fit into any of Karen's types. She knew this. She wasn't rich. She didn't know how to compare her features to those of the men who sidled up to her girl, but she had a feeling that she shouldn't try if she wanted to keep her hopes up. She had no mystery about her, at least not in the way that Karen did; she didn't even have a good poker face. And even though she was taller than Karen, her flaming red locks effectively canceled out that one point in her column she could cling to. She didn't have a clue what it was that made Karen want her and it probably should have scared her, the thought of all they had together disappearing the second Karen snaps out of whatever daze led her to start kissing Grace like she couldn't dream of kissing anyone else. That was the thing about Karen, though. When they kissed, it tasted like gin and safety and the promise of never letting go. When they kissed, Grace could hear "I love you" in the dark haired woman's lilt even though the dark haired woman's tongue was tied with hers. When they pulled away, Grace could see in Karen's eyes how much she meant it. So when she saw someone make his way up to her girl, hoping for the things that would never belong to him, all she had to do was think of Karen's safety and promise of never letting go. And she would know that despite never understanding what it was about herself that drew Karen to her, she had nothing to worry about.

But there was a time when she hated to admit that she hated it, watching these men fumble for a chance to be shot down by the gorgeous enigma that was Karen Walker. A time when she started wishing the ring on the dark haired woman's finger was her ring without fully realizing why. A time when Karen stopped wearing her ring and started up the frenzy in Grace's core every time she looked at her. A time when she threw jealous glances at anyone who dared to interrupt her time with her assistant. She didn't want to feel this way at first; nothing good could ever come out of falling for a married woman. And she started falling so slowly, she could usually put it out of her mind and go about her business like it was nothing. But Grace knew Karen's marriage to Stan was crumbling for the last time. Grace knew she told her things that no one else would ever know. Grace knew Karen trusted her, and she knew that trust was the most precious gift she could ever receive. So she let herself start to fall slowly, ever so slowly, until she didn't realize how deep she was. Until she realized there was no turning back.

She tried not to let it show back then, whenever Karen invited her to her old standby bar. She tried to throw those jealous glances when Karen wasn't looking; she didn't want to get caught, didn't want to explain herself when she wasn't even sure how to yet. But it always got a little harder to time it right the further into the night they stayed (god, she envied the way Karen could hold her liquor). There were times when she was a few drinks in, narrowing her eyes at some nondescript man in a nondescript suit jockeying for her assistant's attention, feeling the heat of Karen's curious gaze burn her for a fleeting moment before watching her turn the intruder down. Karen never said anything about it in those times, and Grace pretended like she was never caught in the first place. But the redhead was always able to feel the shift whenever Karen looked at her for the rest of the night, like the dark haired woman was trying to solve the riddle that was sitting right next to her. They never talked about it, never put a name to it, never gave it a voice, never did anything about it.

Until one night a few months ago.

Grace didn't even have that much to drink yet, one whiskey down, another halfway gone. She had seen the way Karen was in high spirits, and that mixed with the booze had started to make her feel a little warm, a little giddy without completely making her head swim. But then some smooth talking suit wearing the most transparent smile and way too much cologne wedged his way between them, and she just couldn't control it. The way she scrunched up her nose as a reflex to the cologne. The way her eyes cast such automatic and apparent judgment before he even had a chance to say anything. The way Karen looked over his shoulder (so much for tall) and immediately saw everything. Grace had never known Karen to turn down a drink, but she brushed off the suit and his martini offer and slid her hand over the redhead's the second he left.

"Alright, come on now," Karen murmured. "What's with the face?"

"What face?"

"The one you've been making every time someone comes over to talk to me."

Grace wasn't surprised that Karen knew; but she also didn't have the energy to try to cover up all of the jealousy and judgement she had been not-so-subtly harboring inside of her. Besides...all of a sudden, she was sick of trying to hide it. "They aren't good enough for you," she said simply, with a small shrug for emphasis. "And neither was he. His cologne was trying way too hard."

The smirk crawling across Karen's face, the short laugh that came along with it nearly melted her. "Oh yeah?" her assistant asked. "And when did _you _become the expert on what's good for me?"

Grace shifted her gaze to the dwindling whiskey in her glass. "Well...we've spent the better part of twenty years together. You spend that much time with someone, you start to get ideas."

"So tell me your ideas, honey." Karen drew out her words like she knew exactly what was coming next but was still trying to keep it light in case she was mistaken. God, Grace hoped she knew. After all this time, Karen _had _to know; Grace never was any good at keeping secrets. And by the time she heard her friend's loaded prompt-"Tell me who my soulmate is."-she knew she had her opening. She knew she had to come clean.

"Me." It was quiet, but it was strong. It was true. And when she finally met Karen's gaze, Grace refused to break it; she needed her to know that she wasn't about to take it back.

Karen parted her lips to speak, Grace could see her trying to form the words, but nothing came out at first. And the redhead had to bite down on her lip to keep the smile from breaking through; it wasn't every day she could render Karen Walker speechless. But eventually, Karen came to, put on her favorite mask and furrowed her brow. "Oh, come on, Gracie, you're drunk." There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, like she almost didn't want to believe it, in case it turned out to be some kind of joke. Which was probably why she started to turn it into one first, her shaky breathless laughter starting to fill the air around them even though the look in her eyes was giving her away. "You don't really want me."

"Karen, I'm serious." She wasn't backing down now. It was out there; it was real. So she might as well lean in. "Look, I know I'm not the one you usually go for. But maybe that's why we should go for it." She paused for a moment, knowing she needed to steady her voice before she spoke again. Because she needed this to sound as rock solid as she knew it to be. "I could make you happy. I would never put you through hell. I would love you the way you deserve to be loved." She shook her head, started nervously running her finger along the rim of her glass as she kept spilling all of the things she always wanted to say all over the bar. "You know, I never understood how no one ever figured it out. Stan, Lyle, Malcolm. They never got it. But they should have. It's not hard to love you, Karen." She let a small smile start to play across her face. "It's actually one of the easiest things in the world."

"Honey…" Karen barely whispered. But Grace heard it. Grace heard the way Karen's breath hitched like she was trying to keep the tears down, always operating under the delusion that she never did emotions, that Grace had never once seen her do emotions. And just as quickly as the moment came, Karen cleared her throat and drove it away with one last attempt to salvage the walls that were steadily tumbling down. "Smitty!" she managed, slapping her hand down on the bar to get her bartender's attention. "Honey, I think we're gonna have to cut her off soon. She's talking crazy."

Well. If Karen wanted to make a joke out of it-even if she knew it wasn't-then Grace could, too. "I am _not _drunk! Look, I can still do this…" She started touching her fingertip to her nose, alternating between left and right like Karen had just pulled her to the side of the road for a sobriety test. She could see Karen crack a smile, but couldn't stop herself. _"And _I can still say the alphabet backwards." She made a show of taking a deep breath before launching into it. "Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T-"

"Okay, okay! I believe you!" Karen shouted, her words still tinged with her laughter. But this laugh sounded different, almost relieved. She let her hands rest against each of Grace's cheeks while looking her straight in the eye. "Good lord...will you shut up already, so I can kiss you?"

Grace's face fell in astonishment. "What?" She didn't get it. It didn't sound like a punchline. It didn't sound like a fight. And before she could truly wrap her head around Karen's question, the dark haired woman pulled her towards her lips, her kiss sending sparks throughout the redhead's body that were so strong, she had to grab onto Karen's arms to be sure she wouldn't dissolve into thin air. She heard Karen sigh to her touch and held on a little tighter, kissed back a little deeper. Neither one of them had the heart to pull away.

And in that moment, Grace knew her love would always belong to Karen.

_**"She loves Wild Horses and Tumbling Dice**_  
_**She don't have a single tattoo**_  
_**She'll drink all the liquor and leave you the ice**_  
_**That's too much cologne, she likes perfume"**_

Now, Grace watched over the scene as this man settled in next to Karen like she knew he would, and she almost felt sorry for him. He would never get to know the things she loved most about her girl, the things she got to learn in pieces over the last few months. The things she couldn't imagine life without. He would never know the way vodka could make her sing. Grace figured that out early on in their relationship, when they stayed late at the office and dimmed the lights, raiding Karen's mini bar as they hooked Grace's phone up to some speakers and took turns playing each other songs. Karen took a shot straight from the bottle she had in one hand while she held on to Grace's phone in the other, throwing on "Sympathy for the Devil" and joking that her fourth marriage didn't count because she didn't get to walk down the aisle to it (never mind that her fourth marriage barely counted anyway, since it didn't last past the reception). Grace couldn't help but take a shot at Lyle under her breath: _"I _would have let you walk down the aisle to it." She didn't think Karen could hear her over the music, but the way the dark haired woman's smile curled told her otherwise. It made Karen skip to another Rolling Stones song and toss the phone on her desk, look Grace straight in the eye, and take a breath, putting her heart into the declaration that wild horses couldn't drag her away. In that moment, Grace was convinced that Karen's song was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, and would ever hear.

He would never know how seriously Karen took her liquor. It wasn't necessarily something Grace had to learn about her girlfriend; when you hire an assistant who keeps a martini glass at her desk and a minibar fully stocked despite all your protesting, you start to get the hint. But it wasn't until one of their usual nights at the bar when Grace found herself caught up in a line for the restroom that she fully understood. She didn't think she would be gone for that long (and honestly, she _wasn't _gone for that long). She didn't think she needed to worry about her drink. But when she finally made her way back to the bar, she found that the near-full glass she left behind was now empty except for the ice.

"Karen, what the hell?" Grace asked, exasperated as she sat down next to her.

But the dark haired woman was so sure of herself in her defense that the redhead couldn't be mad at her. "Honey, the ice was gonna water it all down, I was doing you a favor!

"But…" Grace couldn't help but let out a small laugh, knowing any kind of argument would have been pointless and ridiculous. "I was barely gone."

"Well," Karen started as Smitty put a fresh drink in front of Grace, "maybe next time you'll think twice before you wander off when Mama's dry." She slid her arm around her girlfriend and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Still think it's easy to love me?" she murmured into Grace's ear with a smirk.

Grace sighed as she relaxed into Karen's body. "God help me," she exhaled, "I really do."

This man would never know that Karen doesn't really like cologne, and never truly got used to the way it smelled on any of the men she spent time with. But Grace learned that the night they broke in Karen's new place, celebrating the fact that Karen was now free from the cold, lonely expanse of the manse she had shared with Stanley for decades. It was in the middle of a quiet moment on one of the new couches that Karen burrowed into Grace's arms and softly broke the silence. "You know, honey, you were right about that guy."

Grace furrowed her brow even though she knew her girl couldn't see it. "What guy?"

"The one from the bar." And then, before Grace could ask which one from the bar, "The one who made you tell me you loved me."

Oh. _That _guy. Grace hated that guy. But she liked being told she was right. "What was I right about?" she asked.

"His cologne was terrible. And it's not just his. Stan's was terrible, too. And Lyle's. And Malcolm's. Maybe there's just no such thing as good cologne." Or maybe she was just associating those scents with horrible relationships, but Grace wasn't about to make them dive into that kind of psychological discussion when this moment had been so perfect so far. Besides, Karen wasn't finished.

"But this is nice," the dark haired woman murmured before she buried her nose into the redhead's skin, taking in her perfume. "This smells like home."

Grace didn't know what to say to that; she just held Karen a little closer to her body and hoped that it said everything she was too overwhelmed to say.

Maybe the worst of it all (for him, anyway) was that this man would never know how soft Karen's porcelain skin was. Grace got a sense of it every time she held Karen's hand, but she didn't really know until the first time Karen led her to her bed. If it had been any other person leading her to any other bed so soon after their first kiss, Grace might have felt a tinge of guilt, maybe regret. But if she was being completely honest with herself, there was a part of her that waited twenty years for this moment. And there was a bigger part of her that trusted Karen with everything she had. It stunned her that first time, the way Karen's touch was so careful, so calculated against her bare skin, that it nearly brought her to tears. But that was nothing compared to the way it felt as her hands traveled Karen's curves, the way Karen bent to her touch. Nothing compared to the way Karen's hips rose to meet her, to the way Karen sighed like she craved her. Nothing compared to the knowledge that she could give Karen exactly what she wanted.

It always used to stun her, the way she made Karen move like that. Even now, there were moments when it still stunned her to hear the woman who had always claimed to never need anyone or anything say that she desperately needed Grace. She wasn't sure she would ever be completely used to it, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be completely used to it. She liked the way it stunned her, liked the way it felt throughout her body. It was almost like she got high off of it every time she heard those words spill from Karen's lips. She never wanted that feeling to go away. And she was grateful that so far, it hadn't.

But this man would never know the absolute gift of having all of this knowledge. He would never know the gift of her skin, of being needed by her. He would never have the gift of her telling him he smelled like home. He would never have the gift of racing to finish his drink or of being serenaded by her late at night. You only got to have all of that if Karen picked you. And unless you happened to be the quirky redhead she trusted her heart with, she never picked you.

_**"If she ever leaves, it's gonna be for a woman with more time**_  
_**Who's not afraid to let her dreams come true**_  
_**If she ever gives her careful heart to somebody new**_  
_**Well, it won't be for a cowboy like you"**_

It wasn't like Grace was always so sure Karen would pick her, though. There was a time when she hated to admit that it scared her, witnessing these scenes at the bar. Like when they were so new, they had to be a secret, just to see where this was going before they went and did something stupid like tell their friends, only to realize that they weren't really meant to be. It could have been so easy for Karen to decide that she wanted to be in a relationship that was a little more public, a little less hush hush. For someone who had always been so unapologetically true to herself, it must have been hard for Karen to keep that part of her hidden; god knew it was nearly impossible for Grace to do it. She figured it was only a matter of time before somebody came up to the bar and grabbed Karen's attention, keeping it long enough to illuminate another path to take, one that didn't have so many hoops to jump through.

"You know I would never, right?" Karen asked her one night when those thoughts got a little too loud to ignore and the dark haired woman just finished sending one of those nondescript suits on his way. It wasn't as if Grace had made a big show out of her nervousness. But Karen had been able to read her like a book from the day they met, always able to tell when something was wrong, always able to say the thing Grace needed to hear. "I care about you too much to do that."

Deep down, Grace knew that. Karen always made such an effort to seem like she didn't care, but if you really knew her, you knew that she would move mountains for the ones she trusted enough to love, the ones she loved enough to trust. But even twenty years of evidence proving that Grace was loved and trusted couldn't quiet her mind. So she furrowed her brow, scrunching her face up to try to hide the surprise that Karen had seen right through her. "I didn't think you would," she said, plastering on a smile that was hardly reassuring, trying to keep her voice from faltering, knowing she wasn't that successful.

She could tell that Karen didn't quite believe her. But instead of calling her out, the dark haired woman wove her fingers with Grace's and gave her a soft smile. "I know," she said, even though Grace knew she was just going along with it. "I just think I should say it more often." She paused like she needed to make sure Grace was truly listening before she continued. "You deserve to hear how much you're cared about."

It was the sincerity in Karen's voice that silenced the thoughts running rampant in Grace's head. It was that truth that relaxed her for the next suit, and that truth that told her to stop worrying so much. This love had been a long time coming; she deserved to bask in it.

After they shed the secret, after they sat Will and Jack down and told them everything, Grace had assumed that the nervousness would just go away. But the next time they were at the bar, someone tried to buy Karen a drink, and Grace's nerves kicked into overdrive. Because what if the secret was part of the thrill? What if the secret was the whole thrill? What if the reveal took something away that could never be returned? Sure, Karen cared about her. But maybe there was something one of these men carried that Grace never could. And maybe one of these days, Karen would want to try something new.

"First of all," Karen started one night when Grace had had enough to drink to let her true feelings spill out onto the bar, "every single man in this place is disgusting. Except Smitty...he knows how to make the drinks, so he can stay. But the rest of them...honey, they think that all they need to do to make you happy is throw money at you. They want you just so they can say that you're on their arm. I've had that all my life; I never really wanted it before, and I don't want it now. And second...Gracie, why would I look for something new when you're already it?"

"How am I new?" Grace asked incredulously, starting to feel the drink a little harder than she would have liked. "I've been here for literal decades."

"You still care after literal decades. Hell, you care about me period, not about what I can do for you. You make an effort. When you tell me you love me, I can feel that you mean it. That's what makes you new. That's what makes you my thrill. With or without the secret."

God. Grace always knew that Karen didn't have the greatest run at life, even after she fell into the socialite circle and seemed to have everything anyone could possibly dream of. But it always took her breath away when Karen put a voice to it, a voice that had gotten so used to it, a voice that was softer for those words than it should have been. Overwhelmed, she wrapped her arms around Karen's shoulders. "I _do _love you," she said as if she hadn't ever said it before.

"I love you too, honey. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." It soothed Grace to hear that. And she resolved again to stop worrying so much about an ending neither one of them wanted to reach.

But then, Grace decided to run for President of the New York Society of Interior Designers, and quickly realized not only how much of her life the campaign would take up, but also how much of her life the presidency would take up if she was lucky enough to win it. And there was that nervousness again, peeking its ugly little head around the corner, ready to pounce. Karen's heart had those walls up because of the men in her life who didn't pay attention, who put work first, who put more energy into the things that didn't matter as much as the woman standing by his side through it all. Grace had vowed from the start to never be someone who started adding bricks. She knew what Karen would say. She knew that Karen would tell her that she's not like the others who passed through, just like she did every other time that nervousness came up. And she didn't want Karen to waste her breath on something she wasn't quite sure was going to work to ease her mind this time. So she kept it to herself, and hoped that it would pass on its own.

Karen surprised her, though. She may not have a clue how to be a proper assistant even twenty years after landing the job, but she jumped into that campaign manager role like it was always meant to be hers (and maybe, now that Grace thought about it, it always was). She did everything in her power to make sure Grace got the votes (okay, so her methods may have been a bit shady and underhanded, but she was so damn sure of herself, and by the time she threw Grace those finger guns and told her that everything was going to be fine, the redhead was too distracted by how sexy her confidence was to care what Karen was doing behind closed doors). She kept calling the presidency by the wrong name, but Grace honestly didn't mind; Karen's name had an odd ring to it, anyway. She read the guild's bylaws while Grace didn't have a clue there were bylaws to be read in the first place (and even if she did know there were bylaws, it wasn't like she was ever going to willingly give up her time for reading). She was in this just as much as Grace was.

But what stunned her was that it seemed like Karen genuinely felt no obligation. Not as an assistant. Not as a girlfriend. It seemed like Karen honestly wanted as big of a part in this as she could get. It seemed like Karen wouldn't quit. And while they would have to work to adjust their lives to this new chapter, it wasn't like it would be the first time they've adjusted in the last twenty years. They've adjusted to working together, and to being friends. They've adjusted to each other's boyfriends and marriages. They've adjusted to changes in their relationship with each other. They've adjusted to loving in secret, and to loving out loud. And through every single adjustment, they were each other's constant. And when Grace put those pieces together, she let out a sigh of relief. It was the first time she could feel like everything was going to be okay without Karen trying to reassure her of the obvious. Because they _were _going to be okay.

After all, what was a President of the People Who Tell People Where to Hang Wallpaper without her First Lady?

That was why Karen told her to meet her at the bar tonight; she wanted to celebrate Grace's victory, put a positive spin on it to make the sting of being corrupt and getting elected anyway hurt a little less. That was why Grace was here now, hanging back, watching this guy try to make his move on her girlfriend. That was why there was no question of Karen's answer, even if Grace was too far out of earshot to hear it. She saw how the look on Karen's face grew more and more bored by the second, saw the way Karen shook her head over something he said, and she knew this guy was far overstaying his welcome. She saw him try to steer Smitty towards them. She saw him order a drink for her girl. She saw Smitty put a fresh glass of whiskey in front of Karen. And she knew that it was time.

"Thank you for playing," Grace murmured to herself, her eyes still focused on this guy. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out." She turned to the woman next to her and offered a small smile. "I think that's my cue," she told her, feeling the woman's hand slide over hers in a surprising show of solidarity. "Excuse me."

"Go save her," the woman smiled softly as she let go of Grace's hand and saw her on her way.

Grace made her way out of the shadows and started heading across the bar. She caught Smitty's attention first, nodding his greeting to her as Karen got bored enough with this latest suited suitor to figure out what it was her bartender was staring at. The dark haired woman's eyes lit up for her in a way they didn't-couldn't-for the man next to her, and Grace swore she would be seeing the after-image long after she took her rightful seat beside her girl. She could see the way Karen reached out for her before she was even within arm's reach and felt her knees get a little weak. She could see Karen say something to him and wished she could hear what it was. And the second Karen was able to grab onto her hand, she pulled Grace into her, brushing her lips against the redhead's in a way that didn't feel intended to stick it to the guy but certainly got the point across. It wasn't like Grace wanted to rub it in. But she wasn't about to lie and say that kiss didn't taste a bit sweeter because of it.

"Sorry I'm late," she murmured as they broke the kiss.

Her heart swelled at the sound of Karen's soft "Mmm" as she brushed Grace's hair behind her ear. "You're worth the wait," Karen said softly, barely above a whisper, before she pulled the glass of whiskey closer. "Look, honey," she started, a sly tinge to her words, "this gentleman was nice enough to buy your drink. How about that?"

Grace could see the man's smile falter out of the corner of her eye for a moment before he tried to save face. He stayed rooted to his seat as the realization that he wouldn't be taking Karen home tonight started to sink in. "I get it," he said, his eyes locked on the redhead who crashed his good time. "You're the one who bails her out with some lame excuse." He shifted his gaze to Karen and scoffed. "You know, you could have just said no."

And just as Karen protested "I did," Grace realized she couldn't help herself. She let a smug smile come to play as she picked up the glass of whiskey and took a breath.

"Oh, no, you've got it all wrong. See, _I'm _the one who actually gets to do all the things you're dreaming of doing with her tonight." Grace reveled in it for a moment, watching his gears turn to try to form a response and getting absolutely nowhere, taking in the way he froze in place. She reveled in just feeling Karen's eyes on her, the warmth of the dark haired woman's delight in this turn of events radiating off of her. And then she decided to speed up the process a little bit. "Apparently, I'm also the one who can take a hint. I believe you're in my seat." She arched her brow, waiting for this guy to take his leave. And when he reluctantly did, she swooped into the seat and raised her glass in his direction. "Thanks for the drink, though!" she called out after him and took a sip.

"Well, look at you, showing no mercy," Karen smirked. "It's kind of a turn on."

"Really?" Grace asked, feeling prouder of herself than she probably should. "I don't know, I guess I was kind of mean to him…"

"Oh, please, he had it coming. Good lord, he was smarmy; you should have heard some of the things he was saying to me before you got here. Besides...don't tell me you don't get a kick out of it every time I shoot someone down for you." She ran her finger along Grace's cheek as the redhead started to smile.

"I mean...it's not the _worst _ego stroke in the world," Grace conceded.

Karen's laugh was bright, filling up all the empty space in the room. "There's my girl," she sighed as she leaned in closer. "Mean streak and all." She pressed a gentle kiss to Grace's lips and let herself linger there for a few moments, like she wanted that taste on her lips for as long as she could get it. When she finally pulled away, she spoke in a hushed voice. "Honey, I don't think I'm feeling this place anymore. How about we go back to my place, huh? That way, you can do all the things he was dreaming of doing with me tonight." She met Grace's eyes and set her girl on fire. "Whaddya say?"

"Sounds perfect," Grace murmured before looking at the full glass of whiskey on the bar. "What do we do about this?"

"Cripes, Gracie, is that a real question? Give it here." Karen grabbed the glass and downed it in one go without a second thought, slamming the glass down on the bar ceremoniously. "Ready?"

"As long as you're not too drunk after that," Grace managed in the middle of her laughter. "I'm not about to take advantage of you in such a state."

"I'm not drunk!" Karen laughed back before harkening back to the night it all started. "Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T…" she murmured, getting closer and closer to the redhead's ear.

"Okay! Okay!" Grace said softly, her voice overflowing with the love she felt for her girl. "I believe you. So lead the way." She felt the tug of Karen's hand pull her off of her seat and whisk her away into the night.

Maybe this wasn't always easy. Maybe somewhere down the road, they'll realize they've been kidding themselves. Maybe they were only meant to be together for a certain amount of time before they moved on. But this felt final, in a way that Grace's other relationships never did, in a way that even her marriage never did (both times...god, that should have been a clue). This felt as permanent as anything had a right to be. And that was enough to stop her from worrying too much about whatever the future may hold. That was enough to keep her living in the present.

Karen was enough to keep her living in the present.

Besides...even if they did end up having an expiration date, at least Grace knew that Karen would never leave her for a bar suit. And that was a win in and of itself.

_**"Hey, I've loved her in secret, I've loved her out loud**_  
_**The sky hasn't always been blue**_  
_**It might last forever, or it may not work out**_  
_**If she ever leaves me, it won't be for you"**_


End file.
